


Her New World

by Notmy_Realname



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Epic Tale, F/M, Gen, Magic, Martial Arts, New World, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notmy_Realname/pseuds/Notmy_Realname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy Dalton was on her way home from college when an unfortunate accident results in peculiar circumstances. How is it that she is suddenly transported from where she was to a whole new location – perhaps even a whole new world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uprooted

Remy sat on the train. The lights from the subway tunnel flashed past at a monotonous pace. Her eyes drooped and her head lolled back bumping into the glass window behind her. The soft thump from the impact caused her snap awake. Blinking off her sleepiness she shifted in her seat readjusting her med bag that sat on her lap. Though it was filled with all she needed to survive med school, today, it just felt like a ton of bricks. 

They had been practicing suturing that afternoon. A classroom full of third year med students meticulously inspecting the inflicted wound on their ham hocks and determining which suture style would be ideal for the depth of the cut. Twenty minutes in Remy stood back – proudly admiring her mended pig leg. The cut had been over an inch deep requiring a more advance technique. Remy always had a natural knack for learning techniques hands on and was able to manage the thread and needle with ease.

Her moment of glory had been cut short. Her instructor, notably her least favourite, paused to review her work. He held a clipboard and tutted in disapproval, “with stitches that large this patient is bound to left with disappointing scar –"

“With a wound like this – a patient should be happy to be alive!” Remy retorted. She instantly realized that she had run her mouth – again. She bit her lower lip to stop herself but it was too late. Her instructor sneered, choosing not to respond but instead scribbled something down on his clipboard.

An audible sigh escape her lips and she hugged her med bag close to her chest. Three years in and she still wasn’t her if med school was for her. Her GPA was amongst the lowest in her class. It's not that she was stupid, she just wasn't great with memorization. Remy loved hands on work and in all their practical labs she excelled - but those traits where not "testable" and it was difficult to prove a 90% in quick thinking.

Remy reached in her bag and pulled out a notebook, flipping it open to this weeks notes. There was to be a quiz tomorrow and she would have to review. Her eyes glazed over just looking at the words on the page. Remy had no interest in memorizing notes just to regurgitate onto a piece of paper for some mark. The information before her had such gaps. It never felt like the whole picture and Remy wanted more. She was always keen on asking the question, "why?". Her friends thought she was crazy and would answer, "well, the prof said he wasn't going to test us on that - so don't worry about it." But Remy couldn't help but wonder - it was in her nature. Med school, however, didn't wait for those who wondered.

The train stopped. People shuffled off and on – the crowd slowly thinning the farther they got from the city center. Remy’s eyes scanned through the remaining passengers, the last of the suits had filed off, leaving behind those with a longest commute to the more 'affordable' housing. Her gazed was drawn to a man in a tattered trench coat standing by the train doors. He was muttering to himself, the palm of his hand pressed into his forehead covering his eyes, his fingers clenched in his hair.

It was normal to see the odd passenger of this variety. Remy knew she didn't live in the best part of town, one doesn't make much on a student salary. She watched the man from the corner of her eye and her mind went to diagnosis – possible mental disability? It was not uncommon for the homeless to go undiagnosed, they lacked proper income, and therefore unable to receive proper treatment. Schizophrenia, maybe? She watched him look up, his eyes wide as if to be focusing on something right in front of him - though nothing was there. He was young still, maybe late twenties – congruent with the typical age for the onset of such a disease.

His fist balled and struck the wall of the train and his voice grew louder. Remy could hear his words now – they weren’t English. If she had to guess she would say Japanese, maybe? The words left his mouth fluently. She watched as he slammed his fist against the side of the train cabin several more times, each time with increasing strength.

The man had collected several onlookers. Some passengers got up from their seats and as casually as they could – moved to the opposite end of the train car. Remy couldn’t blame them – she too found herself sitting attentively, her eyes locked on the man.

The train stopped again – more passengers shuffled off but not the muttering man.  He turned toward the people at the end the of the train, his head swivelling and his eyes wild. He appeared to be talking to the whole train now addressing them like an audience – though no one looked to understand him. He was pointing here and there, all the while speaking hurriedly – his tone frustrated and angry. Passengers gasped as he targeted one middle-age woman. He walked over to her and bent to speak to her in her seat. She tried her best to ignore him but he was too close and she flinched at his rushed words.

Remy, though concerned for the woman, was distracted by the man’s other hand which remained deep in his coat pocket. By the way it bulged it seemed that his hand was grasped around something about a foot in length and solid. Remy watched as he pulled his the hand from his pocket revealing what looked like some kind of blade. Before she knew what she was doing, Remy was on her feet – her hand reaching to stop the man’s arm from moving any closer to the woman in the seat.

Sometimes all it takes is human contact. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to show that they care. Remy stood, her hand resting on the man’s arm. He stopped muttering and for a moment there was silence. Their eyes locked. Remy had his attention.

The silence was cut off by the screeching breaks of the train, the bell dinging and a voice alerting the passengers that the emergency bar had been activated. Remy and the man stumbled with the sudden stop. Her eyes went to her feet instinctively but stopped short on the object in the man’s hand. It was indeed a knife. A very strange and very sharp looking knife.

Remy didn’t let go of the man’s arm – this way, if he moved to strike her, she would know and could push the blade away from her. It took all she had to tear her eyes away from the knife back to meet his. To her surprise, they no longer looked wild, instead they studied her. His muttering continued, but it was hushed and steady.

“Has someone contacted emergency services?” Remy’s voice addressed the passengers of the train, not the man in front of her. The train had started up again and was moving slowly toward the next station. She heard a voice call from behind her, “I’m on the phone with them now.”

Good. All she needed to do was keep this man right here until the train doors opened. Officers and emergency personal should be waiting for them when they pulled into the station.

Remy and the man held their eye contact. He wasn’t blinking and his stare seemed to be seeing past her. Though the look felt invasive, Remy held her ground. From the corner of her eye she saw the station roll to a stop outside the train. They had made it.

Her small shift in attention must have been noticed by the muttering man, for his eyes turned wild once again. Before Remy could react the man swung his free arm up and reached for her throat. Remy threw herself backward and out of the way but it wasn’t far enough. The man’s fingers caught the front of her shirt and twisted in the material. He pulled her toward him.

Remy fought to get free and pushed away his arm that held the knife but he was too strong. He thrust the knife forward and into her chest. She was released from his grasped and fell to the floor.

Cold spilled over her. She could feel her mouth form words but could hear no sound, “sixth intercostal… left side… pneumothorax… increased in pleural pressure…”. A collapsed lung. But, it was worse than that – she knew it. The knife had gone in deep – too deep. She reached in the direction of her med bag. Her vision blurred and she watched as someone place the handle of the bag in her outstretched hand. She didn’t need to see their faces clearly to know that they wore looks of helplessness.

Her vision swirled into black and the shouts announcing the arrival of EMTs faded into whispers.

 

..... ..... ..... 

 

The air smelled sweet and the grassed tickled her neck. The lids of her eyes burned red. She was having a dream. She remember there was a man, he was thanking her for… for doing something, but then he was asking for her help again? She kept her eyes closed trying to remember the man’s face. He was handing her something in the dream, telling her to keep it safe – telling her… Remy tried to visualize the object. Her thoughts were murky. It was…It was a knife…

It was the knife that had stabbed her. Behind her closed eyes a face flashed, the face of the crazed man on the train. Her memories came flooding back - she had been stabbed. Remy’s eyes shot open and she sat up. Sun light burned her eyes and she raised a hand to shade herself, the other feeling at her chest for a wound.

None. There was no wound – none at all. Confused, Remy blinked, frantically trying to speed her eyes' adjustment to the light. Looking down she inspected herself. She still wore the same clothes she had on in the while riding the train.  Her white button up shirt had no signs of blood and bore no holes made by any knife. Remy clapped both hands on her chest. She sighed and laughed with relief.

She leaned back on the grass, resting on her elbows and basked in the sunlight. Her jeans felt warm in the sun and the breeze tugged at the collar of her shirt. She was on a hillside that overlooked a valley. The sky was blue and dotted with clouds and the wind rippled the leaves of the tree and rolled over the grasses that lined the valley’s floor.


	2. Lost

…  …  …

Wait… where the hell was she? Why was she on a hill? Whose grass is this?!? Remy sat up again. Was this even real? Or was she just dead? Had she died on the train? She ran her fingers through the grass then brought her hand to touch her face. She felt real, the grass felt real. She pinched her cheek – it hurt! Pain felt real too.

She crossed her legs and took a deep breath. She existed still – her consciousness was her own as she was definitely having her own thoughts about the situation. Her body - Remy did a double take; yes, those were her flats, yep same jeans, same shirt. She look at her hands - they looked like hers. She ran her hand through her hair - it was still the short pixie cut that she remembered. Everything still seemed like her own and was tangible like a body should be. Her senses seemed to be functioning normally and her pulse, she briefly checked, was a steady healthy rate. Medically speaking – she was alive.

She looked around the area that she sat. Behind her was her med bag, resting on its side and beside it lay the knife. It was THE knife. She didn’t want to touch it, but forced herself to reach for it anyway. It was heavy in her hands and warm from lying in the sun. It looked to be about 12 inches, the blade taking up two thirds of the length. The handle was old and worn and was decorated with three round stones, one blue, one green, and one red. Remy ran her finger over the stones – they felt so smooth, almost soft.

She moved her thumb to test the sharpness of the blade and it immediately produced a cut on her first and lightest touch. The blade was sharper than scalpel. She pressed her thumb into her pant leg to stem the bleeding. Within a few minutes she checked the status of her cut. The blood had been wiped away on her pants leaving her free to see the damage. There was none – there was no cut.  She ran her fingers over her thumb – it hurt so she could feel the cut was there, but it was so fine that it couldn’t be seen with her naked eye.

Lucky for her, a cut that fine should heal quickly – on the flip side, the blade on that knife was incredibly sharp and extremely dangerous. Remy popped open her med back and reached in to pull out a notebook. She opened the book near its center and placed the knife, blade up, between the pages. Closing the book around the knife, she placed it back into her bag.

Great. She bent her legs, propping her arms up on her knees she surveyed the land again. So, she was stabbed by a guy on a train with a weird knife. Knife ended up here with her and so did all that she was touching. Something had magically transported her from the train to this hillside. Remy's bet was on the weird-ass knife that now sat tucked in her bag.

Remy reached and opened the side compartment of a her bag and pulled out her cell phone. _No service._ So much for just calling for help. The battery showed 53% remaining. She sighed and hit the power button. She would save the battery for now - just in case. 

She had a few options. She could sit here and wait to wake up – perhaps this was all a dream? Unlikely. Or she could wait here for someone to come find her. Remy scanned the valley for signs of life. The brightness of the sun made it difficult to see – but as far as she could tell she only saw trees, grass, and more trees. The odds of someone finding her here didn't seem too great - perhaps it was best that she go in search for help herself. Remy’s gazed paused on a sparkle that dipped past a hill nearly two kilometers away – the sparkle could be water, maybe a stream.

Judging by the sun in the sky it was either nearly midday or slightly past. The hill gave her  good vantage point; she could ascend further up, but behind her the forest looked dense. She had a pretty good sense of direction – but not that good; her chance of getting even more lost than she was now would increase ten fold if she went into the trees.

Remy stood, dusted off her pants and picked up her bag. She would have to start moving if she planned on ever being found or more accurately ever planned on finding help. Remy set her sights on the glimmer of water. If it was a river of any kind it was her best bet to lead to back to civilization.

* * *

 

The sun was high now. Remy’s shadow tucked close to her feet. She had just made it to the river bed and had decided on following it downstream. From the river she could see that the hill she descended was near the base of a mountain range and that the river likely birthed from its snow-capped peaks.

The river rushed at a good pace and had a width of approximately thirty feet. It could be wider, Remy judged, but the level of water wasn’t at its highest. There was about ten feet of bedrock between the water and the riverbank allowing Remy to walk alongside it without difficulty. She had stopped to inspect the water and found it crystal clear. She soaked her hair and the collar of her shirt to battle the heat from sun. She even refilled her water bottle she kept in her bag. The water was moving quickly and from a mountain spring – she felt confident that it would be safe to drink.

Then she heard it. A tremendous blast rumbled from a distance. Though it seemed far away – whatever had made the boom sounded explosive. Remy had determined, with the help of the sun, that the mountains were north. And if the mountains were north than the direction of the sound came from the southwest. The river headed south – provided… provided she was in the northern hemisphere.

Remy began walking, her pace was fast. She would continue to follow the river south and then cut into the woods when she came closer to the origin of the sound. Her heart fluttered at the thought – she wasn't and expert but she was pretty sure explosive sounds didn’t happen too often in nature. She hoped that it was man made. Perhaps a mine, a blast site – maybe limestone? Whatever it was – it definitely meant that help was not far off.

With the hope of finding answers, Remy’s head filled with questions. Where was she? Who would she find? She had noticed the foliage as she walked. It wasn’t like home. Home was rocky and Mediterranean. Here seemed more tropical. Wide leafy greens and tall skinny trees populated the woods. And the humidity in the air was more than she was accustom too. She had a gut feeling that she had travelled a great distance. How she was going to explain herself to a stranger about how she got there was going to be a tough task.

She heard it again. This time the blast had moved. It was closer to the river. It was more south then southwest. Were there two blast sites? Remy felt an urgency to move faster. Her feet stumbled on the round rocks of the exposed riverbed. Not only had the blast moved toward the river, but there seemed to be less distance between it and Remy.

She walked on keeping her set pace. As she closed the distance between her and the blast site new sounds rose. Crashing sounds, almost like that of a tree falling over. Perhaps it was a logging company? Before her the river turned sharply to the east leaving a row of trees directly south. Another blast erupted and this time Remy could see a cloud of dust shoot up into the air just past the tree line that was directly in front of her. She was close.

She approached the tree line with caution. The sounds of crashing had ceased after the blast. Remy climbed the riverbank and peered through the foliage before entering. She didn’t want to walk into an active worksite – especially one using explosives. But, it was so quiet now. She couldn’t hear any equipment that would have sourced the crashing noises.  She listened intently for signs of life, for the voices of the work crew. She held her breath and strained to listen.

She could hear shuffling, like something moving through the underbrush some distance away. Was it moving toward her? She looked for movement in the foliage. Then she saw it – the shaking leaves of the underbrush about fifty feet into the woods. And from it emerged… a person? Remy couldn’t tell from her position. The shade of the trees made it difficult to see, but the figure outline looked humanoid, like a tall man.

Remy raised both her hands and began waving – “HEY, HELLO!” she yelled.

The figure shifted in her direction and as far as Remy could see she seemed to have gotten its attention.

“Oh wow I am glad to see you. I’m lost and I need some help…” Remy began to holler to the figure. She stopped when she saw it abruptly turn away and crouch down.  Confused, Remy looked in the direction the figure had turned to face. A crashing noise came again – it was loud and rushed toward her like a wave. Remy watched the trees in the forest bend as if bowing in submission to the sound… and then she felt it.

The blast launched her from the riverbank backward on to the bedrocks.  She felt the hard contact of a rock connect with her skull.

* * *

Remy’s eyes shot open. Her head throbbed fiercely. She had never been knocked out before and knew well that it’s not something that just ‘happens’ like in the movies. She reached with her hand to touch the back of her neck. She found it sticky with blood. Not good. She probably has a concussion.

It was still light out, but the sun was sitting lower in the sky. Remy sat up to look at her surroundings. Leaves littered the riverbank; the blast had torn them from the branches of the trees. Some smaller trees had even fallen over leaving splinter trunks in their place.

What the hell was that? Remy groaned. Today was the weirdest day ever. Cursing, Remy stood. Her legs were shaky and her balance wobbled. She faced the wreckage in the woods and decided she didn’t want to rush after whatever caused the damage. She turned, instead, to the river and stumbled to the water.

She bent and splashed water onto her neck. The pink droplets spotted the rocks around her. She rubbed at the caked on blood. The wound was at the back of her skull. The gash felt superficial. Remy wasn’t surprised, head wounds were always a little over dramatic when it came to blood. Her head continued to throbbed, though, it had lessened a bit.

Remy rolled thoughts through her mind. She decided that it was best she didn’t follow the figure in the woods. Whatever it was running from seem to be causing the blasts that she had heard earlier. The last she wanted to do was encounter something like that again. Whatever it was – it definitely wasn't anything industrial. If it was – there would’ve been safeguards in place, it likely would’ve been less mobile. So whatever THAT was seemed more like a weird force of nature than man made. Or if it was manmade – then it was more like a weapon then some kind of industrial tool.

On the bright side, she was sure she saw a person. So, that definitely means there was hope to find help.  Remy rolled from the heels of her feet and sat back on the rocks. She dug her hand into her bag and flick on her cell phone - _no service._ She decide to leave it on - with people around perhaps it might grab a signal. She hung her head between she knees and breathed deep. A possible concussion and lost in dangerous territory. It would be really BAD luck if she had been transported to some kind of warzone.

Remy felt her eyes droop. She was beginning to feel sluggish – not a good sign with a concussion. With a lot of effort she pushed herself to her feet. She started walking downstream again. Her limbs felt heavy but she knew she must keep putting one foot in front of the other to keep moving. And so she did…


	3. Emergency

The sun was low now. The river had twisted back and forth. And at every bend Remy had hope that around the curve lay a bridge, a town, a dock… something. But there were no signs of life. Thankfully, the movement kept her mind focused. The throbbing had subsided substantially and though her limbs were tired they didn’t feel sluggish like before.

Her thoughts touched on the reason for her being here. Maybe she had died. She laughed at the thought; if that was the case, then the afterlife is NOT what people were expecting. She quickly turned sombre and wondered about home. She had been stabbed on a train. It’s unlikely her body just disappeared from there and is now here. And if it had… well, she’ll be all over the news. Technically, she would be in either case. Someone stabbed on the train, dead or disappeared, either way it makes for good press.

She thought of her parents. How worried they would be. Her little brother would be upset too. Her friends and classmates probably shocked. Remy Dalton, 25 year old medical student, killed in train stabbing. The thought of the phrase just plain sucked. Tears burned at the corner of her eyes and her throat grew tight. 

She cursed under her breath again and pushed the thoughts from her mind. She blinked back the tears and concentrated on the riverbed. The shadows were getting long and soon night would fall. Remy hoped to find something before it was dark. She was rounded another bend in the river and could feel anxiety twisting in her tummy. Maybe this time…

Nope… just more river and – and a body? Thirty feet in front of her the crumpled figure lay on the rocks.

Remy stopped in her tracks. Was it dead? She began to walk closer. She had seen a corpse before in her cadaver class - but seeing a body outside of a school setting gave her a completely different feeling. Instinctively her hand went to her cell - still no service. _Oh, please don't be dead…._

Then she saw it – it moved! The crumpled body shifted. Remy’s feet moved before her mind realized what was happening. Before she knew it she was crouched beside the body. Her hand touched the skin to find it warm. She move it quickly in front of the person’s mouth to feel a faint breath and her other hand on his wrist checking for a pulse. They were still alive – good start.

Remy took in the situation before her. Male. Long black hair. Complexion was dark but even so his skin looked pale. She frowned. She examined him further. He wore a red rob-like top that wrapped his torso and beige wide legged pants. The material was linen-like in texture. It was definitely an odd outfit but Remy's mind didn't linger long on the fact. She saw blood - lots of it. The man lay on his side with his back to where Remy was crouched. The blood pool from his chest and wove its way in small crimsons river between the rocks toward the river. She followed the dots that drizzled across the bedrocks. He must have had wandered out from the woods.

Remy quickly checked to see if there were any other major wounds. Her hands patted down his legs and she checked her palms for blood. No red flags for any other injuries. She took a deep breath and steadied the man body by placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip. With a controlled pulled she rolled him toward her onto his back. She couldn’t help but gasped when she saw the gash across his chest. The wound was approximately 15 inches in length running diagonally from his right pectoral, crossing the sternum, and ending in the upper left quadrant of the abdomen. Remy would have to clear away some of the blood to see the degree of its depth.

Her hands dove into her med bag and she pulled out the notebook that held the knife. She quickly unsheathed it from the pages. She would need some clothe to wipe clear the blood. Remy eyed the rob-like top. It wrapped around his chest and tucked into a cloth belt at his waist. She pulled one of the sleeves taught and carefully cut free the material about midway up the arm.

She returned the knife to the notebook and exchanged it for the water bottle in her bag. She darted to the river. She dumped the contents of her water bottle and refilled it with fresh water. She dipped the piece of cut clothe into the river and wrung it out so that it was slightly dampened.

She returned to the man and went to work. Her hands untied the belt around his waist. The clothe fell way and she moved to pull open the his robe. Her mind was set on work and Remy had fail to notice that the man was now awake. She was alarmed by the hand that took hold of her wrist. She instinctively pulled her hand back but found it held fast. For someone with a wound of such calibre he was awfully strong.

His eyes were open and watched her without blinking.

“My name is Remy,” she heard herself say, her tone soft and reassuring. She slowly raised her free hand and placed it on his arm. He didn’t waiver in his hold. She kept eye contact with him and continued, “I’m here to help you.”

She didn’t try to pull away from his grasp. She didn’t feel afraid – instead she felt an overwhelming sense of certainty.

“Please,” she began -.

Before she could finish she felt the grip on her wrist loosen. She gently moved his hand away and pull her hand back to her chest. Her wrist flushed red and burned – his gripped hand been incredibly tight. She watched his eye flickered and the clarity in his gaze fade. Within seconds his head fell limp and he was unconscious. Remy checked his vitals again. Still alive – good, he’ll be easier to work on this way.

She went back to pushing away his robe. The material was heavy and sticky with blood. She had a clear view of the wound now. She noted that it was no longer bleeding and the blood was beginning to crust and coagulate. She began clearing away the blood with quick strokes from the clothe paired with splashes of water from her water bottle. Five minutes later and two trips to the river to freshen the bloody clothe, the wound sat cleaned.

The cut was smooth and approximately a half-inch deep. It showed no signs of the flesh being torn so it must’ve been made with something sharp – like some kind of blade or knife. She turned back to her medical bag and rummaged through it. On her way out of class that morning she had grabbed a couple extra suture kits. After the outburst with her instructor she had planned to practice when she got home. On pork tenderloin of course - of which would become her supper afterward.

She held the suture pack in her hand. This was no pork tenderloin, that was for sure. Though her mind felt the effects of the shock of her current predicament she found her hands continued to work without hesitation. The packet held a piece of thread secured to a small curved needle. As aseptically as she could, she brought the needle to his skin. Her hand floated above the edge of the wound. _Well, here goes nothing…._

* * *

The sun had fallen behind the tree line and the shadows reached across the river creeping toward the opposing bank.  Remy used the decorative blade to cut free the remaining thread of her final stitch. She tucked the needle back in the package and stored both the blade and needle into her bag. She sat up and stretched her back. It popped and cracked at the release of her tensed muscles. She inspected her work – and to her it looked good, for first time field work anyway. Definitely not pretty – but it would hold. She frowned at the thought of it being exposed. She would have to cover it somehow, but without some sort of antibiotic cream it there was a risk that infection would set in regardless.

Remy looked at the face of the man she had spent the last hour tending to. It lay relaxed and free from the pain that would be waiting for him when he woke. She leaned over and brushed his black hair away from his face. His skin was slightly darker than hers and his complexion, though pale, was that of a healthy young man. If Remy had to guess she would say he was slightly older than her – possibly late twenties or early thirties.

His cheek bones and chin were sharp. Remy would admit that even in this state he was rather handsome. She blushed suddenly and sat up abruptly. She grabbed her med bag and adjusted its contents. Shifting the rocks of the riverbed to make space she placed the bag under her patient’s head. She carefully moved his body to a more comfortable position. He would be out for a while – it was all she could do to make his state a little more bearable. She decided to leave his rob open in hopes that it would dry the blood more quickly, so that by night fall it could provide a bit of warmth.

Nightfall. It would be dark soon. Remy had grown up in the country, and even though she had spent her most recent years in a large city she remembered that when it got dark – it got REALLY dark. She would need to make a fire – somehow.

Thankfully, her parent had put her in boys scouts growing up - she was never much for selling cookies. She remember the basics to building a fire. Although, starting it would be a problem. Perhaps if she could find some dry moss she could try the whole stick twirling method.

She stood and dusted of her pants and began to look for kindling. As she made her way up the bank she inspected the trail of blood that led from the forest to where she and her patient were camped. The drops had been thick and heavy. She had been lucky she found him - had he been left alone…

There was a bag. Well, more like a sack tied closed. It was sitting at the edge of the embankment. Remy looked back at the unconscious man - considering his weird outfit perhaps the sack belong to him. The sack was close to the trial of blood. He must have dropped it when he came stumbling out of the woods. Remy too a seat on a large rock next to the bag. She took one last look at the man – he was still. She tugged it open.

Remy carefully took out each item in turn and set them out across the rocks in front of her. A half a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth. A hardened chunk of white cheese. Two stones just smaller than her palm, both flat, one smooth and the other rough. A piece of metal, small and shaped like a C. A roll of fine string spooled around a small rectangular wooden block.

Remy dropped the spooled string when she felt a prick on her finger. She carefully picked it up and examined it further and found a small metal hook tuck into strings. The hook look like one that could be used for fishing. She placed the fishing tool onto the rocks next to the other contents of the bag. It was nearly empty now - the last remaining item was a small round wooden container.

She place the empty bag on the ground and took the small container into both hands and raised to her eyes. It was beautiful. It was sanded so smooth she could barely see the seem in the wood between the lid and its container. She tugged off the top and found it filled with a golden coloured ointment? She held it closed to her nose to smell it. It was sweet…

She paused, then dipped her finger it in and tasted. Yep. Definitely honey.

Wait. HONEY! Remy stood and rushed back to the man. Without hesitating, she scooped out a bit of the honey and carefully applied it to the wound. She used her knife again to cleave a piece of his other sleeve off and using the cleanest side she gently covered the wound. She was sure she had read that honey had antiseptic properties. She remember being fascinated by the fact that honey was so dense and nearly anhydrous that it created a environment that was too concentrated for microorganism to survive.

Remy used half of the honey. It had been a pretty rough day - but at least her luck hadn't completely failed her. She returned the honey and the other times the items to the bag - minus the two flat stones and the piece of metal. She brought all the gear back to where the unconscious patient lay.

Remy went about collecting a small amount of firewood and kindle and built a makeshift fire pit complete with a teepee style fire starter at the center. She then sat with both stones and metal piece laid in front of her. It was just past twilight.

She brought her hands together as one would in prayer and rested the her finger tips against her lips. She often took this position when she was thinking - when she was thinking really hard. Remy evaluated her situation. It was definitely weird that this man was wearing what looked like traditional Asian fashion from the 15th century. It was definitely weird that the contents of his bag were that of a 15th century individual. But this was definitely a weird day to begin with so why start drastically questioning things now? Remy took a deep breath. Some strange historical enthusiastic just so happen to be wondering the woods and got himself hurt. Perhaps he was one of those survivalist enthusiast and had blog about journeying into the woods and living like it was a historical time - being an internet celebrity can prove to be quite lucrative.

Regardless, Remy knew that at least this unconscious gentleman had conveniently came prepared when entering the wilderness – complete with food, fishing rod, and what Remy hoped was flint set. She picked up the rough stone took a closer look. She wasn’t sure which stone was the flint. She had never used flint before.

She swapped the stones and took a look at the smooth one. On closer inspected she found it had small nicks and chips. She picked up the piece of steel and stuck the rock. SPARKS! She smiled and let out a involuntary and loud triumphant ‘HAHA’. She glanced at the man – still sleeping. She regained her composure and went to work coaxing a flame out of a tiny shower of sparks and dry grass.


	4. Awake

It was dark and Remy’s eyes felt heavy. The warm heat from the fire made her want to curl up and sleep. She shifted in her seat. She couldn’t fall asleep. She was sure she had a concussion and couldn’t risk it. The night was cool but not cold and she was thankful. Next to the crackling fire, the running river, and the chittering nightlife of the forest it was far from quiet. She found it quite soothing and laughed to herself when she remembered spending 10 dollars for a music subscription just like it – she was told it would help with her studying.

She frowned at the thought of school. She didn’t want her mind to wander to the ‘what if’s’ generated by her circumstances. For now, she would just stay the course – she was here and she found a person. Hopefully, if they didn’t die, they could lead her back to civilization.

As tired as she felt she pushed herself to her feet to check on her patient. His pulse was steady and Remy was hopeful that it was getting stronger – though it was difficult to tell. His breathing rate 12 breaths a minute – which was good and meant the wound hadn’t affected his lungs. Upon waking, however, Remy suspected the taut stitches might take away from his depth of breath. His temperature was warm but not hot – which meant he was infection free… for now.

She pulled back the blood crusted robe and gently lifted a corner of the fabric covering the wound. It was oozing a bit and in the firelight it was difficult to tell but Remy guessed that fluid was clear.

She replace the bandage and was about to cover up his chest but something caught her eye. Under the streaks of blood and dirt on his chest was what looked like another scar.

Remy grabbed her water bottle and the rag she used earlier and wiped the area clean. It was another scar. It ran horizontally along the seventh rib on his left side and curved around his back. The scar was wide and smooth. To Remy it look odd – almost too perfect but not. Like imperfectly prefect. The smoothness hinted at expert skills in repair but the width of the scar was questionable. It meant that the original wound would’ve had to have been extremely large. There was no markings from stiches of any kind - it had to have been treated by a really talented surgeon. 

A confused ‘huh’ left her lips and she examined his torso further. She hadn’t really taken the time earlier in the day to really get a look at him. She went from sewing him up, to hunting for fire, to cleaning herself up, and ended with a period of exhausted dazed staring – of which took her late into the late evening. She had noted that he was dressed curiously, like that of a traditional oriental culture but she couldn’t pin point which culture considering she’s at very little exposure.

She found three more curious looking scars on his abdomen and chest. One reached over his shoulder onto his back. Her eyebrows raised - this guy has had some bad days. She covered his chest with his robe, again.

A small scrape of something hard against rocks caught her attention. Something had shifted beside his body - on the side facing away from the fire. Remy reached around his and felt for the item. She found the belt she untied earlier and gave it a tugged out of the way. The sound - she heard it again. She got up and rounded the body.

She pushed the fabric away and saw what looked like a long back tube. The shadow cast from the firelight made it difficult to see. Remy grasped the tube and gave it a pull. To her surprise the it slid toward her with ease. Her eyes grew wide when  the length of the tube produced a blade. Shit – she was holding a sword!

Why did this guy have a sword? How hardcore was he? Wandering in the wilderness like it was what – 15th century China? It was seriously weird. There had to be some reason -  a blog, a youtube channel, maybe a really weird joke.

But still – Remy didn’t know much about blades but she could tell it wasn’t cheap. She carefully pulled the sheath out from under the man body and slowly replaced the blade. The sheath itself was black and embossed with delicate cravings. The hilt matched the sheath in that it sported black cloth that woven tightly around a dark wooden base.

Remy placed it on the ground next to the man. She knew she should feel bad for snooping – but really, how could she not? You don’t come cross a ninja, or samurai, or whatever he was on a regular day. But then again - this was no regular day. She sighed a moved back to her place by the fire. Once he woke up she could ask him all about it.

She folded her hands across her knees. Just stay the course she reminded herself. Regardless of how weird things got she just had to stay the course and she would get home.

* * *

Remy was dreaming. There was a man standing in front of her - his back facing her. He was wearing a brown suit - old fashion in style like she had seen in black and white movies. He even wore a bowler. He began walking away from her and Remy shouted for him to wait. He threw a glance of her shoulder but continued on. Remy tried to catch up but her feet were so heavy and she felt like she was sinking into mud. The man in front of her was gaining distance. She forced herself forward but her feet sloshed awkwardly. It was like she was walking through water. It felt so wet - so cold - SO REAL. 

Remy woke. She was still on the river bank. The sun shone bright in the sky as Remy got her bearings. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow remembering her dream. It was so vivid that the feeling of the water on her feet still lingered. Wait- her feet were wet! Remy sat up and pulled her feet up to her chest. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The river has risen over night and Remy had awoke to her heels in the water. They had been at least five feet from the water the day before.

The river sounded louder and Remy could see small rapids rolling over the rocks. It must’ve rained hard somewhere upstream - maybe in the mountain somewhere.

Remy surveyed her camp and leapt to her feet when she saw that the water was lapping at the bottom her of medical bag. Her patient slept quietly unaware of the water reaching for the tips of his long hair. Remy would have to move camp. If she could just get them up the embankment they could have the comfort of the grass and the shade from the trees.

It didn’t take her long to find a small clearing sheltered by a circle of young bushes and a couple of large trees. She had brought along the stranger’s bag and sword and set them at the base of a tree. The clearing was about 30 feet from their camp – it would be a difficult move for her patient and she hoped he would be capable of walking.

Remy returned to her patient. His face looked as peaceful as ever and Remy felt a twist in her stomach knowing that he was soon going to wake to a horribly uncomfortable reality. The river had soaked through a corner of her bag. It had risen another inch or so in the last half hour. She didn’t have time to dawdle.

“Hey,” Remy said. She placed a hand on his shoulder and shook lightly. The man didn’t stir. She tried again with more force and this time the man brought his arm up to push away her hand. It was followed by an irritated groan. Remy was surprised to find herself wanting to roll her eyes forgetting for a moment that the man was not in perfect health. She tried again, shaking him enough to cause his head to sway while it rested on her bag.

The man grumbled again and muttered something in a language Remy didn’t recognize. He brought his hand up to push Remy away again. After he successfully pushed her from his shoulder his hand came to rest above his head and his fingers dangled over the back of the medical bag. He had, unfortunately, set his fingers right into the cold water. The startling temperature change caused him to crumple his brow and slowly open his eyes. Remy sat back and watched him bring his wet hand in front of his face to confirm that it was indeed dripping with water. His sleep drunk state began to subside and next she saw his attention shift to his wound.

He lifted his head slightly and dropped his hand to his chest. He pressed in against the wound and let out a soft hiss. She watched him discover that it was bandaged and knew he would soon be looking for his doctor. She cleared her throat politely.

But he didn’t hear her on the account that he had erupted into a disgruntled conversation completely and entirely with himself. Remy could his exasperation in his tone and she felt as though she would be interrupting if she spoke up. It wasn’t until he sat up that he noticed that she was there. She couldn’t help but gasp at his recovered condition – sitting up with such a wound without assistance wasn’t what she was expecting.

He stopped mumbling when his gaze landed on her. His eyes a were dark brown and starred at her unblinkingly. Remy felt heat rise to her cheeks. Something made her look away and she busied herself by collecting her medical bag. She looked back to her patient to find him still staring. This time she could meet his gaze. His face held an analytical intensity that seemed devoid of emotion. Remy wanted to say that she could see hints of confusions but they were elusive and transient only to appear for a heartbeat than to disappear again as soon as she noticed.

She breathed in a greeting but before it could escape her lips the man turned his attention away from her and resumed his disgruntled conversation. He examined the state his robes which were now sleeveless. He tugged here and there huffing and grumbling. She watched him shift to stand and though he seemed to be well down the road to recovery – she anticipated that this wasn’t about to go well.

She was right. The man got to his feet, waivered slightly, and upon his first step he lost stability. Remy had rose with him and moved to catch him. His body felt solid as it fell against her. She had noticed the night before that he was lean but now she confirmed that he had an extremely athletic physic. His waist was slender and Remy could easily reach her arm around it. She slipped herself under his arm and steadied him. She felt his hair tickle her cheek and even slightly hunched he was taller than her – not hard considering Remy was below average height.

She could feel his stare again and turned to see if her aid was unwelcomed. His face held the same expression and just as subtle as the confusion Remy sensed his acceptance. Their faces were inches apart and Remy could feel heat returning to her cheeks again. She looked away and the word ‘unprofessional’ danced in her through her mind.

“Ra-ee-to,” he said. His voice was deep and Remy could feel it rumble through his chest. The infliction suggested it was a ‘thank-you’ of sorts and Remy nodded in acknowledgment.

Remy waited for him to take a step forward but found his free arm shifting around his robe. His head twisted to get a look at the ground. He was searching for something. Remy tugged at his sleeve and pointed to the embankment where his sword that sat leaning against a tree. That was it. He settled onto her and together they made their way to their new camp. After a few heavy steps she found that the man burdened her with his weight less and less. When they reached the edge of the riverbank he let go of her entirely and climbed it without her aid.

He settled beside his things and rested his back against the tree trunk. He sighed audibly and let his head fall back. His eyes closed and Remy was reminded of a cat lounging in the sun. She sat timidly on the ground beside him and desperately wanted to get a look at his wound. She was baffled by his speed of recovery. He was extremely capable for a person with such a severe injury.

They sat in silence and Remy stared at the rushing river. The water had covered their old camp and she realized that she probably could've grabbed some coals from the fire. Too late now.

She ran her fingers through her hair nervously and turned back to her patient to find his eyes open and studying her.

He pointed at the bandage on his chest and said some words in his language. Remy assumed it was along the lines of, "was this you?".

She nodded. She felt a sudden wave of confidence and moved over to him. She reached her hands up to the bandage and paused.

"May I?" she asked knowing that he wouldn't really understand. But, they have had pretty decent communication until now and she was happy to see that the inflection of her speech was enough to elicit a nod from him.

She pulled back his bandage and her eyebrows raised in disbelief. The cut showed signs of healing that would normally take at least a week to achieve. She saw his hand reach up and tugged at one of the stitches and before she could stop herself she slapped at his hand. He rose his hands in surrender and muttered what sounded like, "bendio, bendio."

Remy tried to keep her demeanour professional but inside her heart flutter with a bit of shock. It's a good thing she wasn't in school - her teachers would've kill her for her current bed-side manner. She glanced to see how he took it and found his face still stoic, though rather than it holding the intensity earlier it was relaxed, even bored - but for the corner out his mouth which twitched upward suggesting the smallest of smirks.

Remy focused back to the wound. At this rate the stitches could be removed in a few days time. She replaced the bandage and leaned back. She wanted to give him thumbs up but figured she shouldn't push her luck. She was impressed thus far that the linguistics held so many similarities already. It unnerved her, however, that his language did not sound like anything she could recognize. But, thankfully he was a person and would be her key to get back to civilization… provided he lived with the rest of civilization.


	5. Hello

It was midday when he woke. After she had moved him and checked his wound he quickly fell asleep again. She was almost thankful as it gave her time to review her current situation. She clearly was still very lost. She was currently with an injured individual who casually toted a sword and was dressed and geared as if it was the middle ages. In addition it appeared as if said individual did not speak a lick of English.

She watched him yawn lazily and slowly stretch his arms up and again she was reminded of a cat - his movement were fluid and purposeful. She had decided she would help him get to where he needed to go. She had figured it was a win-win situation. One: he would need help given his current state and two: he would lead her back to civilization and there she would be able to find a phone or some form of communication to contact home. Maybe if he had a computer she could use a translation app to explain her situation.

She saw him look her way again. His eyes seemed lazy from his sleep but still his unbashful stare made her shift uncomfortably.

"Cho dan woo. Chu yung so?" he said.

Remy didn’t know what to say. She had no guesses of what that sentence was, though, she suspected it was a question.

"I can't understand what you're saying," she said while raising her hands fruitlessly.

"Ah."

She figured that meant he got her message. It didn't stop him from continuing the conversation, though, instead of speaking directly to her - he more spoke to the ground or more likely to himself.

She was surprise when he suddenly made a motion to stand. She hurried to help him but he put his hand out to stop her. She paused and watching him bring his sword and braced a hand against the tree. Using the aid of the trunk as he stood, he tied his robed closed and tucked his sword into his belt. Remy thought she saw pain flit across his face but she couldn't be sure.

He bent to reach for his bag but this time Remy motioned for him to stop. She scooped up his bag and threw it over her shoulder and before even checking to see if he was displeased she gathered up her medical bag. She turned to face him with both bags slung over her back and again was met with a penetrating stare. She felt her cheeks begin to flush but this time she didn’t avert her eyes. She met his look with confidence. She was going to carry his bag for him - if he was okay with it that than it meant he was most surely willing let her follow him.

They stood for a moment longer then finally he turned without a word and made his way into the trees. She guessed that was as good as a 'were cool' as she was going to get.

* * *

The forest was humid. The air felt thick and moist and stuck in her nose when she tried to inhale. She was sweating profusely even though they were walking at a fairly slow pace. Her buttoned shirt stuck to her chest and she had finally given in to unbuttoning it exposing her undershirt. It was a bit revealing considering it was only a white tank top but her companion hadn't looked back since they had begun their journey a few hours ago so she figured she was pretty safe.

Her short bangs clung to her forehead and she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Now that she was in the trees she had a better look at the foliage. It was most definitely tropical looking. She recognized bamboo but nothing else. Many bushes had large wide leaves. The humidity alone pretty much confirmed that she was no longer in her temperate zone. How in the hell did she get here? How had that knife transported her across such a huge distant?

Her thoughts didn't wander for long. The forest broke open to a wide path of short grass. The humidity lessened slightly and a small breeze swept past her carrying the wind down along the path in front of them. She noticed that the ground was worn in two parallel tracks - they were on a road!  Well, not a constructed road - but a clearly a road created by a constant flux of traffic. It was the first sign of actual civilization and to that Remy couldn't help but to feel a pang of hope and happiness.

Her male companion turned to their right, which Remy figure was North-east-ish according to the sun. He began to walk again and she followed in tow. She knew it must be painful for him to move this much and had hoped they would take a break soon - he would need to rest up. But to her amazement he kept his pace and his posture wasn't slouched like a man in pain. Instead he stood tall and moved, though slowly, with the same graceful and cat-like manner she had noticed earlier. What was this guy made of? Maybe he was a professional survivalist - but to function with that much pain regardless of how fast he healed would take a heck of a lot of will power. He was very fit - maybe he was a guy who was into extreme sports and was used to getting hurt often.

She watched his long black hair swing softly as she walked. Boy, was she going to have a story when she got back - _Yes, I was rescued by Tarzan. Very tall, very fit, very handsome Tarzan._ She laughed out loud at the thought and quickly covered her mouth to stifle it. She checked to see if he had heard. Thankfully, he walked on.

About an hour past before she heard the sound. A rumbling noise, like something scrapping a long the dirt. It was coming from behind them. Remy turned to looked and couldn't help but stop in awe as a full-blown wagon came round the curve in the road they just rounded. It was pulled by too large horses with wide hooves and thick legs. Their heads bobbed rhythmically tossing their manes about.

Remy felt something tugged on the back of her shirt. It was her companion. He was motioning her to stand to the side of the road - off the worn path. She obliged. Remy couldn't help but stare wide-eyed. The wagon the horses pulled was loaded with burlap sacks and wooden crates. She could see that they held a variety of bright coloured squashed and other vegetables. The wagon looked well used and the wheels were make of seasoned wood. She looked up at the driver who called to his horses pulled the reigns to bring them to a stop.

The man wore short pants that came just past his knees and a wide sleeved shirt. On his head he wore a large hat made of woven stems. He grinned widely at them, his face plumb and kind. His smile didn't seem to last. He face quickly went to an obvious state of confusion and he blinked twice doing a double take a Remy. He then shifted his gaze to her companion.

"Hisao!" he said, "hyeol-eun ibnikka? Dangsin sang cheo?"

Remy watched the two man exchange words. She wasn't entirely sure what was being said but the two of them appeared to know each other. At first she guessed there was concern in the driver's voice but her companion responded in a way that calmed him down. She watched the driver shoot her several nervous looks as the two of them conversed. Finally, it ended in her companion walking around the back of the wagon and motioning her to follow.

The crates only filled part of the wagon leaving an room along the tail end. Her companion climb aboard, albeit slowly, then patted a spot beside him. Remy climbed on along side and as soon as her feet left the ground the driver whipped the horses into motion.

It wasn't long after they got moving that Remy felt something brush her arm. The sudden contact made her jumped and recoil slightly. Her companion had taken it upon himself to remove his pack from her shoulder. Remy hadn't realized that she still hadn't set down her bags. She quickly removed her medical bag from her other side. The relief from the weight made her sigh audibly. She felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over her and her limbs felt heavy and awkward. Her fatigue was evident and it had been more than two days since she had last eaten. She was hungry.

It was as if her companion had read her mind. In front of her appeared a piece of bread and in it was stuffed a large piece of cheese.

"Chi," he said.

Remy took the bread and took a big bite. Bread had never tasted so damn good. She watched her companion call to the driver and she figured he was offering lunch to him too. The driver refused and together she and her companion ate in silence.

When she was done she dusted her hand together wiping of the excess crumbs. She had felt his stare again and tired to ignore it. She watched the road rolled past. It hypnotically folded out from under that moving wagon. But it wasn't enough - finally, in disgruntled failure, she raised her head to meet his gaze.

He took his hand and place it on his chest and said, "Hisao."

Next he pointed to the bread his was holding and said, "Pan."

Then he pointed to the cheese in the bread and said, "chijeu."

He was teaching her his language. Remy nodded and responded. She followed the lesson starting with the cheese.

"Chijeu. Pan. Hisao," she pointed to each in turn. His name was Hisao. Remy smiled. Hisao. She took the opportunity and added to the list. She pointed to herself and said, "Remy"

Was that a look of disgust or confusion? It only last seconds but his brows furrowed slightly and she watched him struggle to form the sound with his lips, "Rem-ee?"

"Ani. Ani. Ani," he shook his head, "geu sonyeon itum bida? Dangsin bayo, sonyeon ani? ."

Remy could see the ever elusive hint of confusion flit across his face. He starred at her again.

"Remy?" he said to confirm. She nodded. His eyes went to her short hair then to her face then to her chest. They lingered there with some finality. Was he looking at her boobs?   
  
"HEY!" Remy shouted and wrapped her arms around her front blocking her chest from his view.

"Wo nanun saen handa…" muttered Hisao. Remy expected him to show some signs of embarrassment but he was as cool as a cucumber. He went back to looking out toward the road and munched on his bread and cheese. Remy could feel that both her cheeks and her ears emanated a decent amount of warmth.

After a moment he said in a calm and relaxed tone, "Ta dekigon soona, Remy."

His words and tone were cooling and her flustered state subsided. Though she had no idea what he had said she felt in her heart that the proper response would be:  _it's nice to meet you too, Hisao._


	6. Surprise

They waved goodbye to the driver. He had dropped them off at the mouth of a path that broke off from the road. Remy had noticed that they had travelled back in the direction she had come. The mountain range that she had put her back to now loomed over them to the north. And the path that was in front of them began with a slope - they were going up the mountain.

Beside the path was a wooden sign. Burned into the wood was a picture of a house - to Remy it looked slightly oriental as the roof curved up at the ends and the door was framed by two pillars. There were symbols printed along side and Remy made the assumption that it was the writing of the language that the locals were speaking. The writing didn't look like any kind of Asian characters she had seen before - but held a similar style. If anything the symbols looked more like a cross between Chinese characters and the Arabic alphabet. 

Hisao started up the path and Remy followed closely behind. For the last part of their hour long wagon ride he had made himself comfortable and rested his back against the crates. Remy noted that his face had been paler than it was in the morning and was certain this journey was extremely taxing for his body. She made sure to keep close to him as they walked - just in case his body decided for him that he needed to take a rest.

Her mind went back to wondering about who he was and his story. Though, now that she had seen the wagon she was considering that maybe he and his attire weren't so out of place after all. If anything Remy felt the like stranger. The way the driver of the wagon had gaped at her made her feel like an animal at a zoo. Where ever she was it was evident that the people lacked the technology of the modern world - thus far. Perhaps this man had never left this area and apparently has never been introduced to the internet.

Remy pulled out her cell phone from her med bag. She had checked it while she was on the wagon and realized that from the time that she seen Hisao's body until that moment - she had left it on. She made sure to turn it off as soon as she confirmed that she was indeed without service - still. Remy had thought with the road that maybe there would be some kind of reception, but, being that she was riding in a wagon that a lack signal should have come as no surprise.  Her finger hovered above the power button - maybe now? The screen blinked to life and again the top corner read: _no service_. _Damn…_

Remy quickly turned it off and reached around to place it back in her bag. With her eyes off the trail, Remy failed to see the root sticking out of the path in front her. Her foot caught and twisted sending sailing toward the ground. She knew she wouldn't be able to catch herself in time and braced herself for impact.

But - it never came. Her face sat inches from the ground and an arm was wrapped firmly around her waist. Hisao had caught her. Was she not paying attention? Had he not been walking a few feet in front of her? Now, he was positioned next her - holding her up from face planting into the ground.

He pulled her back to her feet and Remy watched for pain on his face. He showed none - though his colouring was fading even more quickly than before. He steadied her with a hand on either shoulder once she was upright.

"Thank you," said Remy - forgetting for a moment that he might not know what that meant.

"Bey qi," said Hisao. He turned to head up the path but stopped and reached for her cell phone that had been flung to the ground in her moment of grace. She saw it this time - his face twisted in pain as he bent for the phone. 

"We should take a rest," Remy said. She looked about to find place to sit down. Maybe some roots that were protruding from the mountain side could make a good seat.

Hisao held her phone in his hands. He flipped it over in his fingers and examined both front and back. He ran his fingers along the blank screen. Remy stopped scrambling to find a place to sit and watched him. He had clearly never seen a phone before. It hadn't even dawned on her to show him. Everybody had a cell phone nowadays - it was so strange to see someone find one so… alien.

The wind rustled the leaves and Remy felt like she wanted to cry. Instead she cleared her throat and held out her hand to accept her phone. Hisao obliged and she tucked it safely back into her bag. He pointed ahead, said a few words, then continued up the path. Remy followed forgetting why they had stopped in the first place.

The vegetation thinned as they climbed. She noticed that the low leafy foliage had been replaced by the ferns and the trees grew taller with smaller leaves like the ones back home. The incline of the path increased but just when it became almost to difficult to climb worn stone steps protruded out of the dirt. The steps were wide and deeply cracked. The edges were worn and round so that each step looked as though it could be as old as the mountain itself.

Together they climbed and finally the steps broke onto a plateau. There a stone path paved the way from the top of the steps under a series of arches. The pillars were painted red and covered with twisting vines. They too looked old just like the stone steps. Remy followed Hisao as he walked down the path. Upon reaching the end Remy saw what the imagine on the sign at the foot of the mountain was suppose to represent.

It was a temple. Remy had seen pictures of old oriental style temples and this definitely fit the bill. It had clay shingles that sloped into an ornately designed trim and the corners of the roof top curved up into gusting swirls of clouds. It had a wide porch that wrapped around the building and was framed with four pillars - two near the front entrance and two at either corner of the porch. It was painted with a mixture of greens and reds with highlights of gold. The entrance to the temple were two large wooden doors upon which was carved a scene of clouds pouring over a mountain range and spilling into a valley. It was beautiful but so old. The paint was faded and the wood, though cured, was chipped and worn.

Remy followed her companion up the steps to the large doors. He made a motion to push them open but was stopped short by a sudden hollering voice.

"KIDDO!!"

Remy looked to her left for the source of the voice and saw that a portly man had just appeared from around the side of the temple. He walked across the porch toward them with his arms out in greetings. He worn robes similar to Hisao but they were somewhat ragged and ill fitted. The belt that wrapped his waist cupped a large belly that caused the rob itself to expose a large portion of his chest. As he walk closer Remy could see that his chest was decorated with some kind of  markings. Careful not to stare she quickly focused on his face. It was wide like the driver of the cart and brown in colour. His cheeks were round and his nose was flat. His grin pushed his bulbous cheeks up so high that they nearly covered his eyes. And his hair - Remy nearly laughed at the sight of it - it was frizzy and stuck straight out from his head like wire.

"Rojin," said Hisao.

The man's grin quickly faded when his eyes landed on the state of Hisao's robes. His tone changed from its friendly sound to a heated the string of words that were clearly of the scolding variety. As far as Remy could tell, Hisao was in trouble. 

The man, or Rojin as Hisao called him, tugged at Hisao's robes and pointed at the blood stains. His tone went from angry to exasperated to irritated. Up until this point Remy would’ve described Hisao as reserved, or borderline sombre. She had never seen an emotion last more than a second on his face - until now. Hisao erupted in protest. Both men were waving there arms about, pointing this way and that. Their voices rose and Remy watched as they both scolded each other and as far as she could tell neither side was winning.

Before things got too heated Remy decided to introduce herself. She cleared her throat once. No response - they couldn't hear her over the argument. She tried again, louder this time. Hisao heard her first and he quickly returned to the reserved demeanour he had held previously.

"Rojin. I nachseon sanm eun jeojang," said Hisao. The old man looked at Remy.

"oooooh," said the old man. Hisao continued to speak and Remy was surprised to see that the old man didn't look at her with astonishment or awe. His look was more that of simple inspection - like he was lightly perplexed, but more so curious. Remy felt her confidence grow in her theory that she had landed in a rather isolated area. She must be a site to see and she appreciated that the man didn't gape openly.

 "Jiao ta - Rem-ee," said Hisao.

A smile returned to the man's face and he bowed his head toward Remy, "Ta dekigon soona, Remy. Wo de ming shi -"

"Rojin," Hisao cut in. To make things clear he did his pointing method starting with himself and ended with the old man, "Hisao. Rojin."

The old man did not look pleased with Hisao and grumble quietly under his breath. Remy bowed her head like the man had done and replied, "Tah de-key-gon soo-na, Ro-jen."

At that Rojin seemed delighted. He clapped his hands and laughed. He threw a hand over and slapped Hisao on the shoulder with enough forced to make Hisao place a foot out to stop himself from falling forward. Rojin waved at Remy to follow and moved to the front doors of the temple.

He pushed the doors open and ushered her inside. The room was vast. It was easy to see that the entire building was just this one room. It shape was rectangular. There were doors on the walls on either side of the hall. They were made with a wooden frame and covered with an opaque paper. Four support pillars created smaller rectangle near the center of the room and framed a shrine that sat opposite of where Remy and her companions stood. The shrine itself was a statue placed on a modest pedestal. The wall with the shrine held two more paper doors - one on each side.

She noted that the interior was better kept than the exterior. The floors were still old but they were clean and polished. The light let in by the paper doors and the windows gave it a look that was warm and welcoming. Rojin made his way past Remy toward one of the paper doors on the opposite side of the hall. She followed with Hisao closely in tow. As Remy got closer to the shrine she could see that this was the oldest piece of all. It was made of stone and as far as Remy could tell it was a figure of a man shrouded in flowing robes. The figure was bent slightly at the waist with one hand extended forward, palm up, while other was thrown out casually behind him. It figure looked like he was dancing.

Curiosity took over and Remy found herself stepping away from her guide to get a better look at the statue. As she drew closer she could see that the condition of the stone was pitted and worn. As first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her but now that she was closer she could see that the statue didn't have a face. It held the general shape of a face but there were no lines, no details to show any expression or to provide any human likeness. For some reason it made her feel so lonely - an aching loneliness unlike she had ever felt before. She raised her palm to cover her mouth worried that she would let the pain escape through her lips. 

It took some effort for her to tear her eyes away from the faceless visage. Before she turned away she noticed an insignia on the palm of the statue's hand. The symbol read "astonishment". Wait, Remy felt her brow furrow - yes, that's what it read, she was sure of it - however, she had never before seen a symbol like that in her life.

She inspected the statue further. On the other palm, the one extend behind the man was another symbol and it read "revelations".

"What the fff-" she felt the words slip out of her mouth. How could she possibly know what these symbols meant? She knew she had never seen them before yet they were as easy to interpret as if she were reading a book. Her eyes travelled to the base of the statue where a string a symbols ran in a horizontal line.

"Be humble for the unknown is thy master," said Remy. Her finger traced along the symbols as she read them.

She placed both hands on her hips and stepped back from the statue, "Huh…. Weird."


	7. Rest

What an incredibly puzzling situation. How is that she knew a language without every learning a language. It was insane. There would be a reasonable explanation for it but right now Remy found herself thinking so hard that it hurt. Maybe it had something to do with the knife and her journey to this new place. Perhaps she was expose to the language when she was young and was recalling it from some distant memory. No, the supernatural circumstances that brought her here was the more obvious of choices… but how…

Remy had forgotten that she was in the company of two other individuals.

"Sindeu e uihae…" said Rojin.

Remy’s attention snapped back to the room. She looked over at the two men and realized that what she had done was not likely a normal occurrence. Hisao looked at her even more intensely than he had ever before - which quite honestly Remy didn't think was possible - and the old man's face scrunched in perplexity. As if she wasn't enough of a freak already - why on earth did she read it aloud?

She waited for the repercussion. Slowly the confusion faded from their faces. Hisao still kept an intense look but it was substantially less intimidating while Rojin reverted to the warm smile he held earlier. Rojin motioned for her to follow him again accompanied with a few words that Remy interpreted to be, "come along now."

Hisao, however, did not follow. He gave Remy and Rojin a slight head bow in farewell and stepped in front the statue. He took a deep bow then slowly kneeled placing his hands on his lap. Rojin opened the sliding door beside the shrine and motioned an _after you_ to Remy. She took one last look at Hisao - who now had his eyes closed in prayer - before stepping through the door.

She was standing on a porch that opened to a wonderfully aged court yard. The square yard held buildings on all four sides. Each were connected with an stone pathway that met in center forming a large circular landing. The building directly across from them was the largest and mirrored the style of the temple. The two on either side were smaller. The one on the left looked the newest. It had porch on the side that faced the courtyard and the plaster walls had windows with shudder. Remy thought it looked rather homey. The building on the right side of the courtyard was the smallest and shed-like in style. It didn't have a porch but instead it was raised on stilts.

The courtyard itself was well kept. Trees surrounded the buildings and grew tall overhead laying shadows across the yard. The sun was quite low and the light it cast was a reddish bronze. Remy thought it looked so peaceful. Even though her being here was due to a series of unfortunate events she couldn't help but appreciate the beauty.

The old man walked to the newest building and Remy followed. He ushered her through he door and Remy was impressed with her instincts - it was their home. The floors were covered in matts and in the center of the room was a low table. Cupboards were tucked against the walls and Remy saw that they were topped with bowls and cups and a teapot - all made of either porcelain or clay.

The wagon, the sword, the traditional clothing, the dinnerware - Remy was wondering now if she really had gone back in time. Rojin took off his sandals and guided her to the table. Remy followed suit by removing her footware. She set down her med bag and took a seat. Rojin held out his hands as if to say _, stay here - I'll be back_ and disappeared out the door toward the back of the home.

Remy tried to logic out her thoughts. It had been a strange journey so far - no doubt about that. Could it be that the knife transported her not only to a different place but maybe a different time? It wouldn't be a far stretch considering how she ended up here in the first place. The thought made her tummy twist in worry - if she was in a different time that would make it far more difficult to get home… it might even make it impossible.

Remy took a deep breath. Perhaps she was just in a place that was behind the times. Like a corner of civilization yet to be integrated with the rest of the world. She had heard of African tribes like that - she wasn't entirely sure if there were any uncontacted peoples in Asia but one could hope.

It wasn't long after that Remy could smell something cooking and smoke from a fire. A little while later bowls of rice, broth, and charred fish were set on the table in front of her. Rojin handed her chopsticks and smiled. He didn't wait for her to begin and instead dug right in. He filled his small bowl with rice and topped it with fish. Remy did the same. Her mouth was watering - she hadn't realized how hungry she had been until now.

She ate until she was stuffed. Rojin kept refilling her bowl whenever it was empty and she did not complain. For the first time since she arrived in this strange place she felt a sense of relief. The tension in her body released ever so slightly, but, Remy was unable to savour it as it quickly transformed into sheer exhaustion. She could feel her eyelids drooping and her shoulders sagged.

Her tiredness must have been apparent because Rojin came around the table and helped her to her feet. He guided her to one of the doors off the dining room and opened it. There was smaller room with one tall wardrobe and a small cupboard. Rojin opened the cupboard and pulled out a stack of blankets. Moments later Remy stood in front of a modest bed made two thin quilts and a roll for a pillow. Rojin had brought in a lit candle as the sun had finally set. He bowed on his way out and closed the door behind him.

Remy unbuttoned her top and folded it setting it to the side of the bed. She took of her socks and laid them beside her shirt. She blew out the candled and reached for the covers. Remy felt a little guilty about crawling into her bed with her soiled pants and tank top but she was to exhausted to remedy the issue. She pulled the covers to her chin and her eyelids acted on their own volition forcing her to say goodnight to the world.

* * *

Remy awoke to sunshine blazing in through her window. It was warm, just warm enough to cause beads of perspiration to form on Remy lip. Just warm enough remind Remy that she had not showered for days. The corners of her eyes felt crusty and her neck felt sticky with sweat. _So much for this being all a dream…._

She got up to find a two bowls and a clothe set by the door of her room. One bowl, the large one, held water for washing and the other held an assortment of berries and nuts.

Remy tried a nut and found that it sort of tasted like a hazelnut. She crunched away on her breakfast and reached for the cloth. The fresh water on her face felt divine. She splashed it onto her neck and used the clothe to wipe away the dirt and sweat. She didn't know how long she took but by the end the water sat murky with grime and her skin felt raw from scrubbing. She ran her fingers through here hair and tried her best to patted down any pieces sticking up from sleeping. If only she had a mirror… 

Remy let out a sigh. The clean and freshen state brought clarity to her mind. Today she was going to find the nearest town. It was her best chance to get her bearings straight. It was possibly that she would be able to find someone who was connected to the modern world. Remy finished up her berries and nuts, folded up her bedding and made for the door.

The dining area was empty but the front door to the courtyard was left open. Remy stepped out onto the porch. Rojin and Hisao were in the center of the courtyard standing about five feet away from each other but facing the same direction. They moved together - their motion synchronized with one another. It looked to Remy as if they were doing Tia Chi but slower than she had ever seen before - each pose taking as long as a minute to complete. Remy stood silently  and observed.

Hisao was wearing fresh clothes and his long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His robe was a deep blue and his wide legged pants were a soft white. Rojin wore the same clothes as yesterday except he did not dawn the top half of his robe. It was left dangling from his belt. Remy's first impression was that Rojin had been overweight but now she saw that he was more muscle than fat. His belly was tight and his arms heavy and sculpted. From the porch Remy could see the marks on his skin, the same marks she noticed the day before. They were white in colour and linear in shape but from where she stood she couldn't see enough to confidently say what they were. Remy wondered if it was a unique kind of vitiligo - as that was the only thing she could think of that would cause such pigment loss in skin.

Remy watched the men. She hoped that her being there was okay and that she wasn't any kind of a disturbance. Quietly she made her way to the edge of the porch and sat. She noticed that against the nearest pillar rested Hisao pack and sword. She could see the hilt clearly now and hadn't really given it any thought since the night by the fire. The embossed hilt held the same gusting swirls of clouds like the ones on the front door of the temple. The swirls broke apart to leave a small space for two symbols - similar to the ones on the statue.

"Be. Wilder." said Remy. It didn't seem quite right. She tried again.

"Bewilder."

That was it. 


	8. Found

Hisao must have had the same idea as Remy. His pack and sword had been laid out with the intentions of taking her into town - or so Remy figured after an awkward conversation of charades. It took no time at all to pack up and head out with the morning sun fresh in the sky.

Two hours of walking brought them to a well used road. It was wide and smooth from travel. Other smaller roads connected and merge with the one they walked. They had even been past by another wagon - this time full of burlap sacks spilling over with different beans and grains. The driver waved jovially at Hisao and naturally did a double-take at Remy. The reaction had dampened her hopes slightly but she still felt determined that she was on her way to finding answers.

Hisao walked silently beside her, his day pack slung lazily over his shoulder and his sword tucked tightly in his belt. He was in much better shape than he was yesterday. His posture was strong and straight. Remy had even checked his stiches before they'd left and decided that she would need to take them out in another's day time. The sight of his healed wound again gave her a flicker of doubt - the fact that it healed so quickly was not natural - but being transported to a random mountainside wasn't exactly natural either, nor was being able to read a language she had never seen before.

Still she was taking the best course of action. Hopefully, something or someone in town would point her in the direction of home.

They crested a hill and from the top Remy could see the town splayed out in front of them. The road they were on drove through the town splitting it down the center. The buildings on either side of the road were the largest and held awnings of various colours. Several smaller streets branched off the main vein into the smaller buildings and homes. Remy would guess that the town itself housed a couple hundred people.

Hisao and Remy reached the mouth of town. Dust lingered in the air as wagon rolled slowly through and people bustled about. The road had been wide but as the entered the town stalls took up space on either side and squeezed the traffic to the center. It wasn't overwhelming crowded, but it was busy for a town so small.

Voices shouted back and forth across the alley and customers bartered with the stall owners. Remy was so enthralled that she failed to pay attention to where she was walking. She felt a sudden grip on her arm followed by a strong tug. Remy was pulled to the side of the alley just in time to avoid being trampled but a pair to work horses pulling a large canopied wagon. Remy looked up to see Hisao right in front of her. His hand still gripped her arm.

"I'm good," she said with a reassuring nod.

Something flickered across his face again. Maybe irritation - no, it was something else. He let go of her arm and turned back into the market. Remy wondered if she would ever get better at reading him.

The wagon had past and the loud rumbling of it's wooden wheels faded. Remy felt as though the sound of the market had faded too. What originally started as a bustling place now felt eerily quiet. She wasn't wrong. When she took a look around she noticed that the town folk had stopped what they were doing and were starring at her. Some had their mouths open while others leaned and whispered to their neighbour.

Well, shit. Remy wondered if this would happen - it most definitely wasn't a promising sign either. Hisao had stopped shortly ahead and turned to call her, "Remy."

Remy caught up with Hisao. Her onlookers seem to be staring at them both now. Most returned to their work when they saw who she was with while other weren't so easily affected. Remy followed behind Hisao. As they walked people called out friendly greetings to Hisao, knowing him by name - but it was always followed by a stuttered silence when they saw who he was with. Greetings, silence, then a wake of murmurs - that was the path Hisao and Remy carved through the town.

Remy tried her hardest to ignore the stares and to focus back on her mission. Were there any signs of the modern world? Electricity? No. Modern Clothes? No. Plastics? No. Corporate logos? No. Things were not looking good.

Smoke meat hung from the awnings. Some stalls held food while others had basic supplies like rope and iron tools. A few stalls even sold luxury goods like art - some were small wooden carvings or handmade jewellery made with flat smooth stones of all colours. Doorways to the buildings along the street were either behind the stalls or tucked between them. Some buildings had large windows - no glass but instead framed with painted shutters. Inside she could see people eating noodle bowls and steaming veggies.

"HISAO!"

A stall owner called to them with a cheery smile. Of all the greetings thus far Hisao actually made his way over and spoke with this man. Remy saw the man animatedly talk with Hisao - joking and laughing. Hisao's demeanour remained ever calm and his tone polite and soft. The man eyes flicked over to Remy a few times during the conversation but he did not stare and Remy felt eternally grateful. The man waved a hand at Hisao then ducked behind his stall. The man's back bobbed up and down behind the bags of different varieties of rice and bean he had on display. Finally he stood and in his hand he held a small red bag marked with a golden insignia. He handed it to Hisao. Hisao accepted and moved to open his pack, likely to pay, but the owner of the stall shook his head in protest. They exchanged a few more words and the conversation ended with the shop keeper giving Hisao a wry smile, several nods, and a dismissive wave.

Hisao looked like he was about say more when a door from a couple buildings down burst open. A woman came tumbling out. She wore a plain full-length robe that was held in place with a wide belt around her waist. Her hands were above her head in a guarded manner. Her tone was rushed and apologetic. From the door emerged three large men. From what Remy had seen thus far was that most of the population was around 5 and a half feet - Hisao being tall at six feet. These men were six feet and then some. They wore grungy looking clothes. The one in the center of the group had shortened sleeves revealing his heavily muscled arms. The word 'douchebag' danced in Remy's mind but their faces were far too frightening for her to utter the term aloud. The center man sported a bald head and the one to his right had a large scar down one of his cheeks. The one on the left had a squashed nose which looked like it had been broken more than twice.

The bald one held a bowl of soup in his hand. He faced the woman and turned the bowl's contents upside down. The soup and noodles splashed on the ground and if that wasn't rude enough - the man followed up by dropping the entire bowl letting it smash to pieces. He said some harsh words and sneered. The woman kept bowing deeply in response her string of apologies endless. Unfortunately the whole scene had attracted several onlookers.

An older woman rushed out of the crowd to the young woman's side and consoled her while directing her away from the aggressors and back into the restaurant. The bald man, however, didn't approve and reached for the young woman's arm.

Remy had thought Hisao was standing right next to her. No - she was sure he had been standing right next to her. But there he was - some 30 feet away with his sheathed sword blocking the bald man's outstretched hand. How on earth did he…

The two men starred at each other.

"Wo kan ni cong bushì. Wo xiang ni yeojong zozhu bu keqi." said Hisao. Remy was a fair distance away but the ice in his tone was evident.

The man was smiling now. A disgusting sort of sneer.

"Dang wo íkai shi. Nae bangsig-ui," said the man. He made the motion to push Hisao using both hands. With the cat-like grace Remy had seen before Hisao took a half step back causing the man's hands to meet nothing but air. The bald man stumbled awkwardly to regain his balance - clearly he was planning to push Hisao with some serious force.

The man straightened out and shot a look back at his buddies with a head hilt toward Hisao as if to say, would you get a load of this guy? Remy had seen that look before - from couple of drunk guys outside of a bar that got into a scrap back in her undergrad days. But this was going to be three on one. Hisao didn't look scared but Remy felt worried. How was he going to get out of this? Those guys were huge. She looked at the crowd to see if someone would jump in to help him. To her surprise the people in the crowd were smiling with almost eager looks on their faces. The two people next her whispered excitedly and then snickered. Remy felt like she was on the outside of an inside joke.

The large bald man turned on Hisao and without warning swung his fist - fast. Hisao had seen it coming and he causally lean out of its way. The man's force carried him forward and Hisao parried using the man's momentum. With a quick twist his feet Hisao spun past the man while rounding his sheathed sword on the back of the man's neck. The connection was solid and made a sickening crack. It had happened so fast that had Remy blinked she would've have missed it.

The second man, the one with the scarred face, charged Hisao. With a similar sidestep Hisao moved past the man and struck him on the side of the leg, right above the knee. The force alone caused the man to fold and fall to the ground. The third man stood looking at this two companions, one writhed and groaned on the ground while the other was out cold. He looked at Hisao, shook his head and then bowed deeply muttering some sort of apologetic sounding phrase.

The crowd didn’t applaud or shout with glee. A murmur swept through and there were some hints of laughter but everyone seemed to be returning to their regular duties - tending shops, buying or selling. Was this a common occurrence? Remy was in awe. What the hell just happened? The third man tended to his friend who moaned in pain holding his knee while the other still laid face down in the dirt. Hisao tucked his sword back into his belt and made his way to back to Remy. He was stopped short by the young woman whom he'd rescued.

She bowed deeply and thanked him several times overs. Remy noticed that girl almost seemed nervous and was blushing profusely. Hisao stood calmly and formally bowed his head only once to her string of praises. He stepped around the girl and continued to make his way toward Remy.

Remy watched as two more girls, dressed similarly to the one who had just been saved, come running out of the shop toward their friend. They talked excitedly, consoling the girl and shooting looks over a Hisao.

What in the f-? Hisao casually approached Remy as if he hadn't beat two grown men to the ground to less than ten seconds. Remy had to mentally verify that her jaw was not touching the ground. No, her mouth was closed but she was sure the shock she was feeling was blatantly plastered on her face. Hisao's eyes must had seen it too. Briefly his eyebrows knit together. Why was he surprised that she was surprised?

Remy continue to turn over the her thoughts in her mind - forgetting that they had begun walking again and were steadily winding their way through the market. What had happened sparked so many questions. How had Hisao moved so fast? He had been standing right next to Remy and then instantaneously moved 30 feet. Perhaps she had not been paying attention - but for how long? Then there was the natural acceptance of the fight within the town. Maybe it was a cultural thing - perhaps here they settle their disputes the old fashion way? May the strongest man win - or something like that.

Remy looked at the back of the man she was following. His black hair that was held tight in a long ponytail swayed back and forth - the rhythm matching the slight sway of the equally as dark hilt of the sword tucked in his belt. He was clearly a skilled martial artist. Remy had never seen anyone move like that - not in real life of course. She didn't even think it was possible. The man had the grace of a dancer and the power of a heavy weight champion. And the way he used his sword - Remy didn't know much about swordsmanship but Hisao evidently knew how to use one. Is this what he did for a living? Her eyes widened in realization - the cut on his chest… could it have been from a fight he had -

Hisao had stopped walking. Remy nearly collided with him. They had stopped at a stall; this one was filled with papers of all kinds. Images hung - portraits of woman wearing beautiful dresses holding ornately decorated parasols, landscapes of mountains and sunsets, a strange looking wheel that reminded Remy of a clock. Stacks of folded pamphlets lay across the table. The parchment used was thick and rough. Remy noted that each copy looked slightly different indicating they were all made by hand and not a press. Remy inspected the writing. She didn't not recognized any of it. None was like what she had seen on the statue.

Hisao said something to the smiling man behind the stall. The man went to a table in the back and dug through a pile of large sheets before settling on one that he tugged free. He laid the parchment across the table in front of Hisao and Remy.

It was a map. It had mountain ranges, rivers, and lakes. It had small and large dots that appeared sporadically connected by fine lines - likely roads. The dots were labelled, some with larger font than other's to which Remy assumed was based on importance. Hisao pointed to a small dot on the map. Then he pointed to himself, then to Remy, then made a sweeping motion with his hand as if to encompass the rest of the town. Remy looked at the map. The dot sat beside a river not far from a mountain range. Hisao was pointing to where they were.

Remy stopped. She looked at the mapped. She didn't recognized the landmass. The map did have a scale but she didn't know how to read it. Maybe it was just too zoomed in for her to recognized. She looked at Hisao. He gave her an encouraging nod and asked a question while pointing at the map. She guessed that he wanted to know where she lived. Remy answered 'no' with a shake of her head. She brought her hand ups and started with them closer together then spread them apart to show - bigger.

Hisao nodded and spoked to the man in the stalled. The man grabbed a large roll of parchment from a bucket that held several more. He unrolled it out on the table keeping his hands along the sides to stop it from folding up. It was a world map this time. There were landmasses divided by spanning oceans. Remy saw prominent mountain ranges, deserts, and large lakes. All of it was labelled eloquently in the language she could not understand.

… Not that it would've helped anyway. The map she was looking at sure as hell wasn't earth.

She was not in Kansas anymore.


	9. Friendship

The morning sun peaked through the leaves of the high canopy sprinkling the temple courtyard with golden flecks of dancing light. Remy stretched her arm out in front of her with her palm face up and her elbow slightly bent. Concentrating hard on keeping her stance she brought her other arm up close near the center her torso and extended it out in front of her in a similar manner. _Slower. Move Slower_. Her eyes darted to Rojin who stood beside her holding the same position. Good. She was keeping pace with him still.

When she had first joined in with the morning meditation Remy found it easy to keep pace with Rojin and Hisao. She even sometimes felt as though she was lagging behind - not knowing exactly which movements came when. It didn't take her long to memorize the series of positions and when she did she began blowing past Rojin's lead glancing over to find herself several stances ahead of him. It took her another two weeks to discover that the pride did not come from simply knowing the movements but instead perfecting them.

Remy shifted into the next position sweeping her back foot out in a wide controlled arc bringing to a stop inches away from her front foot. She curled up the heal so that only the ball of her foot touched the ground. Her palms flipped inward and in a fluid movement she scooped the air in front of her and pushed it away. The transfer in the stance took minutes to complete and for every moment Remy urged herself to stay present with her body. Her feet on the ground, her hips stable, her core firm. She drew power from her solid foundation in order to manipulate the motion she made with her arms. She focused on feeling the movement of the air around her and tried to imagine how her hands made it swirl in front of her. She could almost feel it tickle her skin, lapping along her arms and flowing through her fingers. A gas was a fluid after all.

The feeling was rewarding and Remy always felt more relaxed afterward. The time spent with her body made her feel more limber. Remy had never considered herself a graceful person - but after six weeks of meditative exercises she felt more in control than ever before. Her feet felt more sure on the ground and she would catch herself before knocking something over or from stumbling over an unforeseen obstacle. Even something as simple as reaching for salt on the table Remy felt like the movements of her hand held a grace similar to what she had seen in movies about Victorian royalty - delicate and soft, free of clumsy redundancies.

Her and Rojin came to their last stance finishing their meditative dance. Remy slowly brought her hands down to her sides, she turned to Rojin and gave him a deep bow.

"Thank you, teacher," said Remy. Rojin returned the bow but quickly switched from formalities to his comically wide grin.

"My girl, you are learning so quickly," he beamed, "you never cease to surprise me."

Remy smiled gratefully. His compliment was genuine and his eyes shone. For having landed in a strange world she couldn't have ended up in the care of a kinder person. Remy bowed again in thanks.

It had been nearly seven weeks since she arrived in this world. From the moment she realized that she was not on earth Remy had vowed not to give up hope. She would find the answers to why she ended up here - simply chalking it up to divine intervention would not suffice. In order to find what she was seeking Remy would have to come to learn the ways of the world and that meant asking A LOT of questions. When she followed Hisao from that market back to the temple that fateful day she came up with a plan. She would learn the language, then she would find a way to travel to where there were institutions of knowledge. She hoped - if the world wasn't too primitive - that she could find people who would take her case seriously and would help her find her way home. That day Remy placed her faith in reason. There had to be a reason for what happened to her and she would not rest until she discovered it.

Remy pulled at the bottom of her tunic - straightening it after their exercises. Remy wore a sleeveless robe that was tied about her waist with a belt. The robe was short and reached about mid thigh. Underneath it she wore a pair of fitted shorts. Her feet sported wrappings for stocking that tucked into slipper like shoes. Days after it was decided that she would be staying at the temple, Rojin brought her some new clothes. She didn't ask where they had come from  - more so because she really didn't know how at that point - but she did show great gratitude. Rojin had even supplied her with stylish robes for visiting town - similar in fashion to what Remy saw the women wearing in the market. Food, clothing, and basic living necessities were are given to her by Rojin. He was a good man and Remy promised herself that she would repay him somehow in the future.

Rojin had turned to go inside leaving Remy in the middle of the courtyard.

"Rojin," she called, "meet you in the dojo for my lesson after breakfast?"

Rojin threw his hands up and spun on the spot, "Aiyeeee…. That's right - no language lesson today Remy. I have a meeting in the village. Can't miss it. Aiiiiyussh, you'll have to be on your own - "

Rojin rubbed a hand through his hair and paused. Remy was about to say it was alright when Hisao rounded the corner of the temple. Rojin's attention shifted to the new arrival and he called greeting to Hisao. He was back early from his trip to a larger town about a weeks travel from the temple. Remy was surprised too - he had managed the trip in only six days when it should've taken double that. She would've doubted he had even gone but the size of the pack he carried was clearly loaded with the goods he went to pick up. He didn't even look tired - just standing there lazily as per usual, his bored eyes surveying the courtyard.

"Oh - perfect! Hisao - you can help Remy with her lesson this morni-"

"NO!"

They had shouted it at the same time. Remy and Hisao glanced at each to other then turned on Rojin. Remy spoke first.

"I mean - no thanks. I'm fine. I had plans for this afternoon and I'll just get an early start on them," she said. Remy did her best to recover her composure and saw Hisao do the same out of the corner of her eye. There was no way she was going to let him teach her again.

Hisao shrugged, "Suits me."

Remy turned away from the two men. She didn't want Hisao to see her scowl. Of course he would say that - acting all nonchalant and cool. Remy headed toward the dojo but failed to get two steps from where she was before Rojin called to her.

"Don't forget to collect the eggs, Remy!"

Right. Remy took a sharp right and headed toward the bathhouse. She had come to feel rather at home. The four buildings that had looked so strange to her now brought her comfort. On the most northern edge of the courtyard sat the dojo and was opposite of the temple. The bathhouse sat opposite of the living quarters. And the chicken coup was just beyond the bath house tucked into the trees.

Remy gather the eggs in the basket left by the coup. She peaked her head around the bath house and saw Rojin and Hisao conversing on the porch of their living quarters. She didn't really feel like interrupting them. Well, if she were to be really honest with herself - she wasn't quite ready to welcome Hisao back from his trip.

She grumbled under her breath and headed to the dojo with basket in hand. Hisao had saved her, no doubt, and without him she may not have made it back to civilization so quickly. And to anyone she could imagine that she would appear rather ungrateful. But Remy wasn't one to pander strictly out of obligation - and especially not to those who turned out to be complete assholes.

And that's just what was Hisao Hajime was - an ass. Remy felt satisfied with the conclusion. Nearly a week after Remy had been welcomed by Rojin, Hisao became more distant and more aloof than before. The only time he really spoke to her was to insult her form or her stance during their morning meditation. She even tried giving him the benefit of the doubt thinking that maybe he was just a poor communicator and that maybe he just had trouble expressing himself. Within another week the theory was crushed when they went to town. Hisao talked politely with the town folk - given a celebratory greeting as he walked from stall to stall like some popular star athlete. She even witnessed him flirting coolly with the waitress in one of the noodle houses causing her to giggle and blush and causing Remy to roll her eyes. He was most definitely capable of being entirely civil - she just couldn't figure out why he did not treat her like everyone else (minus Rojin, of course).

Three weeks in Remy and Hisao could manage short conversations. Rojin had encouraged Remy to talk as much as she could so that she could learn how to apply the language lessons they had each morning. He also encouraged Hisao to converse with Remy so that she could practice. It didn't go particularly well and Remy quickly learned a variety of words for annoying, silly, dumb, clumsy, etc, etc. And Remy was sure that Hisao had learned a variety of equally insulting words in English. 

She likened Hisao to a moody teen. One that complained about doing daily chores then spent the afternoon sleeping like a lazy cat. And that was no exaggeration - Remy found him sleeping any where. On the porch, in the temple, on the roof of the bath house, or in splayed out along some sun drenched rock or tree branch even. For a man, one that clearly had some special skills in the way of martial arts and was clearly some sort of folk hero to this local town, Hisao was far from being considered 'mature'. Perhaps he spent too much time as a child in the dojo and not enough time socializing. Or it could be one of a thousand other reasons - for Remy had thought of them all in attempts to justify his total ass-like personality.

Five weeks into her stay it was this same ass-like personality that caused Remy to make a fool of herself during her last visit to town. Hisao had filled in for Rojin on a language lesson that morning. He had designed a lesson to teach Remy to speak less formally and to learn common colloquialisms. Remy was more than happy to corporate - she had noticed different sayings used by the town folk and she didn't want to seem so much like an outsider, aside from her foreign appearance. Since she had started speaking their own language the people in the town seemed more incline to accept her as one of their own.

Hisao told her that a friendly farewell was: 'mame to pankēki'. From his explanation Remy likened it to 'see ya later' or 'take care'. When Hisao spoke it he held cheery tone and a smile. She should've know by his cheesy smile that something was off. But, being that he was treating her so nice she had thought that today he had decided that they could be friends and that maybe he had finally set aside his mysterious grudge and was ready to make amends. How wrong she was…

She spent the day in town buying items from a list Rojin sent with her. She had practiced her 'mame to pankēki' with the first few shop keepers she encountered. The reactions varied. Some men gaped and women scoffed. Her final attempt resulted in a woman using one of the insults Remy had learned from Hisao - a word that was commonly used to describe a tactless woman, a.k.a. 'a bitch'. At that Remy sought out Yuuko, the friendly shop owner she met on her first day in town - the one that had given Hisao the red package. She repeated the saying to Yuuko explaining how she was taught to use it. Yuuko clapped and hand over his mouth in shock. Apparently, Remy had been wishing everyone well with: "Go jump in a river" - or so that was the direct translation. The subtext, however, implied that she hoped that the person jump in a river and fail to resurface.

Remy was so embarrassed. So enraged. That evening was their biggest fight yet. Hisao and Remy fired insult and after insult - english and new world tongue. And for the first time Remy cried. Tears broke from the corner of her eyes and she ran out of the house into the woods. She didn't want him to see her break. She had held it together all this time. Even in the darkest hours of the night when her mind thought of earth she refused to let the tears out. But that fight was the straw that broke the camel's back. Remy cried. She cried until the sun set and a blanket of darkness fell. When she finally made her way back the house it was dark but for a single candle left for her return. In the morning Remy woke to find only Rojin having breakfast. He explained that Hisao had to go for supplies in another town and would not be returning for quite some time. Remy had hoped 'quite some time' meant weeks or months. Evidently that was not the case.

Remy climbed the steps of the dojo and pushed the thoughts of Hisao from her mind. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment even now and she tried instead to focus on the task at hand. He wasn't worth the energy. She had bigger fish to fry.


	10. Chapter 10

The dojo was as large as the temple and was similar in style but for the addition of a back storage room. Remy made her way to the back room. It held various equipment - old practice swords made of wood, quarter staffs, and different targets for practicing kicks, punches and blocks. Rojin had told her that this temple once had a great following but it had been a decades since it had been open for students to practice. Remy always wanted to ask him more about it - but he would just wave it off - saying that the time had come and gone and was not be dwelled on for now was a time of peace and the need for warriors long gone. Remy even dared to probe for answers from Hisao all she got was, "the old man speaks true."

The storage room, in addition to the martial supplies, held but one ornate chest. Remy fell into her routine at the sight of it. She looked forward to this part of her day most of all. She opened the lid to the chest and pulled out one of three books that lay inside. Next to the books sat the knife she brought with her on the day she arrived - she took that as well. She gathered up her book, her knife, and grabbed a short wooden sword from one of the racks. Without forgetting the eggs, Remy headed out the back door of the store room and into the trees beyond the homestead.

Remy walked through the woods. Her feet on autopilot taking her to her favourite spot. Here, most of all Remy felt like herself. Her mind could roll over the problems she faced and she could review her journey so far. She had learned the language of her new world at an exceedingly fast pace. Where it took years to become proficient in one language by taking university courses, Remy had become fluent in the language of her current world in a matter of a few weeks. She couldn't give credit to herself - she knew very well how much she information she was capable of retaining in day - medical school had pushed her too her limits more times than she'd like to admit. But, here, in this place - she never felt like she reached her limit even though she spent hours learning a new concept. Even the next morning, she would expect some sort of mental fatigue - there was none - she could pick up right where she left off.

She toyed with the idea of it being tied to the accelerated healing. That in this world recovery time was shortened. Remy was curious as to why this occurred. Before she was even able to ask Rojin about - he presented her with a possible answer. He called it the Qi of Faith.

He explained it to her on the same night that he showed her the chest in the back room of the dojo.

_"It is the energy of our world. The blood that brings life. The nectar for our souls. The Qi can be accessed through service to the Gods. With prayers a farmer can sow a bountiful crop. With dedication a warrior can wield the power in his sword. With meditation one can bring clarity of mind and healing of the body. The Qi of Faith is every where and bestows upon us a great many things."_

_Rojin talked calmly, standing next to the ornate chest. For the first time Remy noticed the lines that aged his face, creasing around his eyes and along his cheeks._

_"Remy, my dear, these are the memoirs of old," said Rojin. He leaned over the open chest and retrieved one of the large ancient books. The cover was worn so that any traces of a title was lost. The spine held a geometric symbol - a symbol that Remy could innately translate. The symbol read '2'._

_"Every temple has a memoir left to its caretaker by the Eiraf," said Rojin, "the Eiraf were the first holy men. These men were said to have directly spoken to the Gods that govern us. They were given the language of the Gods and tasked with documenting the desires of the deities within these books. Across our land only ten Eirafs ever existed. The last Eiraf past on over one thousand years ago."_

_Remy listened in awe. Her eyes locked on the book held in Rojin's hand._

_"In our world individuals are sometimes gifted with strange abilities or talents. The Gods work in mysterious ways assigning peculiar tasks to the most unlikely people. You say you are not from our world and yet here you are. I cannot begin to imagine what the road ahead of you has in store. You have something that has not been seen for over a thousand years. A gift that allows direct access to the words of the Gods - the secrets behind the divine Qi. It is something that many will seek. That many will covet."_

_Rojin extended the book to Remy. She reached for it. The pages thick and old, the cover made of solid cured leather. The weight felt tremendous in her hands._

_"I cannot ignore what you've shown me, my girl," said Rojin, his voice steady and sure, "take these books. Use them as if they are your own. Don't refuse - for you are the only one to know what they truly read. For us mere followers of the faith have only teachings past down from the generation before. Whether you choose to enlighten us with its teachings is up to you. The Gods have decided that. You are the one with this gift and thus you are the one to choose how to use it."_

Remy shifted the weight of the book under her arm. It was the third and largest book of the series. It was also the volume that discussed the applications of the Qi of Faith. And today - Remy planned on discovering exactly what it meant. She could hear the small creek that was just over the next hill. There she could spread out along the water. The trees still grew tall providing lots of shade and the sound of the moving creek added to the peaceful atmosphere. It was Remy's ideal place to study.

Studying language was easy. Remy could practice it constantly and repetition lead to a quick mastery. These texts proved far more difficult. The writing, though she could innately interpret the symbols, actually translating the text into sensible terms was frustrating. The words were not separated by any punctuations and the symbols were not separated by distinguishable spaces. It was like reading Morse Code. Remy had to figure out were one word ended and the other began. Once she deciphered the words she had to construct the sentences. More often than not, the sentence was poetic in nature. The meaning ambiguous and open ended.

She sat down on her favourite rock. It was flat and wide allowing for lots of room to spread out and work. Remy set down her supplies - the basket of full of eggs, the ancient knife clad in leather, the wooden short sword, and volume 3 of the Memoirs of _Orodoki_. She opened the book and tugged out one of her notebooks from home. She had stored it within the pages of the large book using it as a bookmark and to take notes of the text that she translates.

To Remy the term 'memoirs' was an accurate description. Even though the writer of the text often wrote in prose - the prose often times read like a journal. It was an Eirafs documentation of the wishes of a God called Orodoki. From the text Remy figured it was the same God worshipped at Hisao and Rojin's temple. She found the teachings in Volumes 1 and 2 to be synonymous with the motto on the statue in the temple, 'be humble, for the unknown is thy master'. Remy had translated as much as she could. The teachings urged for man to be humbled by his future for the path he walks, though directed by his choices, is inevitably left up to some degree of chance. Volume one explains that man should embrace chance - to revel in it and to never fear it. While volume two discusses a 'realm of possibilities'. Or was it probabilities? Remy couldn't exactly figure out which one. Volume two was far more abstracted than volume one. So abstract that Remy even doubted the Eiraf understood what he was writing.

The third volume was far more concrete and by far Remy's favourite. It was a book dedicated to Orodoki's Qi. It was essentially a manual for how to properly access the Qi of Faith. At first Remy had believed that 'Qi of Faith' was a figurative term - sort of like karma on Earth. Like an intangible currency based on one's personal belief system. The Qi of Faith was still just that - but it book talked of harnessing it as if it was something that could be collected and then used.

Remy flipped open her notebook, the pages filled with notes from memoirs volume one and two. Question marks were frequent and circles encased words with lines stretching to the margins holding various interpretations. Remy flipped through to the place that she left off. She was mid-way through the third volume and had finished the day translating a poem. The memoirs, though written like a journal, never spoke from the first person perspective - whereby the author avoids using the term 'I' in his descriptions. The poem at the center of the third volume was the only exception.

Her notebook sat open to her translation of the poem:

_I am not the one who cries in jubilation  
_

_I am not the one who rests content or satisfied  
_

_I am not the one who strives for admiration  
_

_Nor the one who cowers in humiliation  
_

 

_I do not partake in distress or hardships  
_

_Nor do I seek vindications justified  
_

_I am not the one who longs for affection  
_

_Nor the one who desires ones attentions  
_

 

_I am not reduced by shock or fright  
_

_Nor do I tremble with disquiet_

_I am the one who falls between all these_

_The one who waits unexpectedly_

 

It was as if Orodoki was describing himself - not the Eiraf explaining his nature. But that's all Remy could figure - she had no clue what it meant or exactly how it related to the lessons regarding the Qi of Faith. Of all the readings thus far - this was the most peculiar and distinct. She tapped her pen against the page and tutted. Having translated it the day before, she wondered if letting it stew overnight would bring some clarity - it did not.

Remy decided to move on. She was, in fact, more interested in the pages beyond the poem for they held literal instructions on creating artifacts to 'harness Qi' - specifically Orodoki's Qi. Remy turned the ancient page. She had read a bit ahead and knew that she needed an object that would act as a channel for the energy and aid in gaining access to it. For that - she had brought the wooden practice short sword.

Remy picked up the leather wrapped knife. Carefully she unfolded its makeshift sheath. Remy eyes went back to the page. The instructions were clear. She need to mark her 'talisman' with the spirit of Orodoki. The symbols where laid out in sequence - some were ones she had seen before like 'revelations' and 'wonderment' but others she found too difficult to read. It was almost as if they acted like an optical illusion - she could see many words in one symbol and the longer she stared the more it would change.

Remy blinked to clear her vision and went to work. She did her best with her knife to whittle the symbols into the bottom of the wooden blade of the practice sword. After a solid hour's worth of work, Remy blew away the last of the flakes of wood. Her work was crude - definitely not an exact replica of what was written on the page but she was no expert wood worker. She put away her knife and picked up the wooden sword.

It felt the same as before. The wood didn't tingle in her hand - nor glow with a mysterious aura. Remy didn't really know what she was expecting - but regardless she felt a little disappointed. She had been given a gift of reading "Gods" words and a mysterious knife transported her to a strange world where people with major wounds healed within days. As soon as she discovered this "Qi" she had wondered if this was the force responsible. And if she had a chance to study it - to understand it - perhaps she could use it to get home.

Remy waved the short sword in front of her as if it were a wand. She had to admit to herself that she was jumping to conclusions faster than she usually did. Clinging to the hope of a quick fix. But, discovery took time - countless experiments of trial and error. Maybe she was just being a silly girl reading into an work of fiction - putting money into a religion that was all smoke and mirrors - or maybe there was truly something to it. It would take time and a lot of work  to find out.

Remy got to her feet sword still in hand. She had never really held one before. It felt heavy and awkward against her palm. Remy took the stance she had seen Hisao take in the market - on the day he had fought the three thugs. Just like Hisao, Remy swung the sword out to block the imaginary hand her foe. She mimicked Hisao movement and dodged her foe's punch then rounded him - twisting as she went to bring the wooden sword crashing down on the back of her ghostly foe's neck.

Remy stood gloating over decimating her enemy - her completely non-threatening, entirely imaginary enemy. Regardless, she found she liked the feeling of the sword and what had felt awkward only moment ago now felt comfortable and familiar. Maybe she would have to get Rojin to show her a few moves when she got back - - - wait. Remy paused to listen.

Was someone clapping?

Yes. Yes there was. Remy had an audience. Hisao stood at the top of the hill, casually leaning against the side of a tree, applauding.


End file.
